“The gate into the garden is there, across the way. I shall go first,” Lena whispered.
“Ye cannae go first, mother, if they see ye they shall …” Fraser began, clutching at her hand.
“If they see me, they will call out first and nae shoot. They know me well enough, and I shall say I am rising early to assist with the wedding preparations,” she replied, clearly having regained some of her earlier bravado.
Fraser and Isla stood holding hands, pressed up to the wall, and Lena prepared to run the short distance to the safety of the garden gate. It was still in the shadows, and once they were through, they would be far easier to see. It was a great risk, but it was their only hope if they were to escape.
“Good luck, mother,” Fraser whispered, and he kissed her on the cheek.
“Follow after me as soon as I am across and ‘tis safe to dae so,” she replied.
And without a second’s hesitation, she dashed across the courtyard. Isla and Fraser held their breath, waiting for the shouts of the guards above or worse the flitting of an arrow through the air. But there was nothing, and with a sigh of relief, they watched as Lena disappeared into the shadows beyond.
Dawn was now breaking, and it would not be long before the courtyard was bathed in the cool light of the early morning sun. Fraser embraced Isla and told her to go next. He would wait until last, and if she was seen, she and Lena were to make their escape without him. He would distract the guards long enough for them to get through the garden to the outer wall.
“I am nae going without ye, Fraser,” she said, taking his hand, “we will go together, come on.”
The soldiers on the parapet above had their backs turned, and without looking, Fraser and Isla ran hand in hand together across the courtyard to where Lena was waiting for them in the shadows by the garden gate. The three embraced one another, breathless from the excitement, and Lena pointed to the gate.
“Through here and along the Rose Walk, as ‘tis known. There we shall find the door hidden behind the ivy. Unless we are seen, of course. There should be nae one there at this time of the morning, though my old mistress, Lady Musgrave, used to walk here early at times, and at times the servants use the walk as a short cut between the kitchen and Great Hall,” Lena whispered.
The old gate creaked as they opened it. The sound seemed magnified, as though its echo would wake every man in the castle. But in a moment, they were through and into the castle gardens, which were still dark where the foliage grew thick and tall.
“This way,” Lena said, taking Isla by the hand and leading them both along a walk, which ran between gnarled rose bushes and tall shrubs. It would have been a beautiful garden once, but now it was overgrown and unkempt, its master having other things on his mind than the pruning of the roses.
“Wait here a moment,” Isla said, catching her breath.
“‘Tis nae time to wait, Isla,” Fraser said, catching her arm, “we must go now. They will soon discover that we are gone.”
But even as he uttered these words, there came the blast of a trumpet from behind them and the calling of the guards in the courtyard.
“Escape! Sound the alarm! Escape!” and a bell began to ring, as though it were to wake the dead.
“We have been discovered quickly,” Lena said, leading them along the rose walk.
There was now enough light to see the extent of the gardens, and to Fraser, it looked as though they were running towards a solid wall. It rose up to a great height before them and from it hung thick ivy, which trailed down to the path.
“‘Tis a dead end,” Fraser said, as they came to the wall.
“Nae, ‘tis nae my lad,” Lena said, and she pulled back the ivy to reveal a door. “Tis an escape.”
As she ushered them behind the foliage, more shouts could be heard from the courtyard. It seemed that the whole castle was now roused and that they were being searched for high and low, with men calling to one another from above on the battlements and out in the courtyard beyond. Behind the ivy, they paused, and Lena pointed to the rotten door before them.
“Beyond this door, ‘tis a short run to the trees, and then we must make our way up to the borderland beyond. Though ‘tis so many years since I have been out of these walls, I can barely remember the way,” she said, and she pushed at the wood which began to splinter for it was wet and rotten.
“Here, mother, let me,” Fraser said, and he pushed his shoulder hard against the door, which splintered and gave way.
The lock fell out, and the door fell open. Beyond were brambles and branches which covered over the door from the other side, meaning that no enemy would ever have guessed that such an entrance to the castle existed.
“Come now, our escape is near,” Fraser said, and he turned to Lena and embraced her. “Thank ye, mother, thank ye for everything ye have done for us.”
“Ye are my son, and in a way, I suppose Isla is like a daughter too. Ye have been the first to show me any kindness in this sorry place, and for that, I shall be ever grateful. Now come, if we are to escape, we must go now,” she said, and she led them through the door towards freedom.
Behind them came more shouts, closer now, and it sounded as though the gardens were being searched. The brambles on the outer side were thick, and they tore at their clothes as they pushed their way through. Isla cried out in pain as thorns scraped her arms, but Fraser urged her on. They were almost out of the thicket now and beyond them lay open grass before the trees rose up steeply ahead towards the borders beyond.
“Here is where the danger lies,” Lena said, as they stood beneath the trees looking out towards the grass beyond.
From the battlements above, there would be a clear view of any person running across to the trees, and a well-aimed arrow would be enough to see their escape ended. Permanently. It was almost light now, and a low silky mist hung across the heathers, swirling about like an endless specter.
“The mist will provide us with some protection, will it nae?” Fraser said, “if we keep down low and run within it.”
“Aye, then we must go now before ‘tis all burned off,” Lena replied.
“This time, I shall go first. Ye both follow me but spread out. That way, any arrows will be directed in three ways rather than one,” Fraser said, “make for the tree line, and if we get there, we must just keep running and nae look back.”
The others agreed, and they prepared to make a dash for it, as behind them, the bell still tolled their escape, and shouts and cries could be heard from every corner of the castle. Fraser ran first, and as he did so, he thought only of Isla and of their future together. He was quite literally running for his life, and the life he hoped would be his across the border.
Isla and Lena followed, and they spread out into the mist, keeping as low as possible as the mist swirled around them. But the sun was already burning off the morning haze, and it provided little cover to them as they ran. Fraser was about halfway to the tree line when he heard the cry from behind him.
“Over there, down on the grasses. Prisoners escaping, prisoners escaping,” came the shout from the battlements above.
An arrow whizzed by him, followed by another. They were shooting blind, but if a hundred arrows are shot blind, it is a certainty that at least one or two will hit their target. Fraser rose from his low position and began to sprint, just as another arrow flew by his head. He dared not turn back to see if his mother and Isla were still with him and as he arrived at the tree line, he staggered breathless and panting.
A moment later, the others were at his side. But Lena was holding her arm in pain, blood coming from a flesh wound. An arrow had grazed her, and she was crying, as Isla tried to stem the flow of blood.
“Here, tie this around yer arm, mother. It will be alright. It looks worse than ‘tis; these things always dae,” Fraser said.
Isla looked at him and pointed to his hands.
“Lay yer hands upon yer mother. Dae what ye did for the woman in the cottage,” she said.
Le
na, despite her pain, looked at her son in surprise.
“Hands?” she said.
“Aye, Fraser has healing hands. He has helped many a person across the border. Now, he can help his own mother,” Isla replied.
Fraser wasted no time, and with Isla’s help, they bandaged his mother’s arm, and then Fraser laid his hands upon her and whispered a prayer. It felt different from helping others. Now, he was helping the woman who had carried him and had imparted so much of herself to him.
“Yer hands feel warm, Fraser, and the pain is less,” Lena said, looking at him in amazement.
“Then come now. We must go. We cannae stay here any longer. Take my hand, mother.”
But just then, the sound of horses’ hooves came from across the grass, thundering towards them. There were shouts and cries from the soldiers, and the sound of a hunting horn echoed across the early morning mist.
“Quickly,” Lena said, and together they hurried through the trees.
Their progress was slower than it would have been on open ground, but the horses would find it difficult to follow them in the dense foliage, and they were well hidden on either side. Once more, thorns cut into them, and they stumbled their way further into the forest, which led uphill towards the border. There, they would be amidst the heathers, but the danger would not be passed since the English would have no qualms about crossing the border into Scotland to reclaim their prisoners.
“Hurry now,” Fraser said, as Isla stumbled again.
Lena was clutching her arm, but the bleeding had stopped, and she was doing her best to keep up with them. Fraser led the way, for he knew the route and was determined to bring Isla and his mother home. His thoughts were on nothing else, and he had placed his own safety behind that of the others. All he wanted was to see them safe, and he would stop at nothing until they were.
Behind them, the sounds of the horses could be heard through the trees, but they were scattered now, and it was clear that the English were not following a specific trail. There were enough of them to still pose a threat, however, and Fraser knew that once they were out on the open moorland, they would easily be seen.
“We need to be across the borderlands before anyone spots us,” he said, as they came to the tree line. “Once we are off the moorland track, we can head into the village, and then we shall be safe. The English will nae attack the village, they need the peasants on their side if they are to mount an invasion.”
“Percy Musgrave will attack anyone,” Lena said. “He is a hard and heartless man with nae sympathy, and once he gets an idea in his head, then he shall stop at nothin’ until he achieves it. He will want Isla back, and he will want to see the two of us dead. It will have been discovered that I helped ye and that there has been treachery on my part. I am a wanted woman just as much as ye are a wanted man.”
“Then we shall be wanted together,” Isla said. “Come now, freedom is close, and we have come this far together. Soon we shall be in my father’s castle, and we shall be safe.”
“Until Sir Percy invades,” Lena replied, clutching her arm and wincing.
“That is a problem for another day,” Fraser replied, and he took hold of Isla’s hand and led her out onto the heathers beyond.
The moorlands towards Kirklinton were an open expanse, high up on the borderlands. On any other day, the sight of the early morning mist with the sun rising majestically above it would have been a beautiful sight. But today it represented only danger. To flee across the open moor was certain to attract attention, and if the Musgrave troops did not yet know where their escapees were, then they soon would. The moorland rose up and down, undulating and silvery, the purple heather and mist stretching endlessly on into the horizon. They would make for the track leading to the village and hope that the English would not see them until it was too late.
Isla had never appreciated just how vast the moorlands of the border country were, but now they seemed almost insurmountable. Could they really escape across them? But they had come this far, and now their only choice was to go forward in the faith and hope that together they had already achieved much and dealt Sir Percy Musgrave an embarrassing blow in front of the other English nobles. To lose a prisoner, and such a valuable prisoner, on the day she was meant to be married to his son was a fact which could only make Isla smile.
“What are ye smiling for?” Fraser said as they hurried over the moorlands.
“Oh, I was just thinkin’ that today was meant to be my weddin’ day, and I have rather spoiled it for everyone,” she replied, laughing.
But her laughter stopped abruptly, for behind them came the sound of a hunting horn and a cry which indicated they had been seen. Turning, Fraser was horrified at the sight which now met them. A line of English horseman was charging across the heathers. They were about a mile back, but on horseback, they would soon be upon them, and they would stand no chance.
“Quickly, our only chance is to get down into one of the gullies where the horses cannae go,” he said, “follow me.”
They began to run, pelting across the moorlands. But they were tired, and their fatigue caused them to slow. Lena’s injury made it hard for her to run, and Fraser kept stopping to allow her to catch up to them.
“Go on without me, son. I am slowin’ ye up,” Lena said, breathless and clutching at her arm.
“I am nae leavin’ ye mother,” Fraser said. “We have nae found each other to lose one another now. Keep going. Ye can dae it. We are nearly at the border now, see,” and he pointed across the heathers.
Ahead of them, Isla was running for her life, but she stopped and turned. Catching her breath and waiting for the others to catch up. As they did so, she cried out for them to hurry as the thunder of the horse’s hooves came from behind.
“They are gaining on us,” she cried, and they were indeed.
At the head of the English charge was Sir Percy Musgrave, and next to him was Howard. Each had their swords drawn, and they were urging on their soldiers, as though this were a hunt, and they were chasing down a stag. A horn sounded, echoing over the heathers, and Sir Percy was shouting to his men to run the escaping prisoners down. It seemed that all hope was lost, as Fraser, Isla, and Lena ran across the moorlands with their pursuers close behind. They were still far from the village, and without help, they could never make it to Kirklinton.
“‘Tis nae good, Fraser. They are nearly upon us,” Isla cried.
“Then I shall try to hold them off, let them cut me down, but ye two run. Run for yer lives,” Fraser cried, turning, as the horses came ever closer.
“I am nae leavin’ ye,” she cried back, but then another sound came upon the wind, and she turned to look across the heathers at a sight which truly cheered her heart and caused her to cry out with joy.
Chapter Forty-One
“Fraser, look,” she cried, pointing across the heathers into Scotland.
He turned and could not believe his eyes at the sight he now beheld. There, charging across the heathers, were the Scots, with Alistair Elliott at their head. They were on horseback too and thundered past them, as the English pulled up their horses and panic and confusion set in.
“Fraser, take this,” came a cry, and looking around, Fraser saw Sweeney riding towards him at full pelt.
He threw him a sword, and Fraser caught it deftly, crying out in thanks as Sweeney laughed.
“Ye took yer time,” Fraser called to him.
“Aye, but we didnae expect to see ye upon the heathers. We were comin’ to rescue ye, but it seems ye didnae need us,” he called back.
“We need ye now, though,” Fraser called back.
The Scots had now clashed with the English, and a bloody battle was ensuing. Sword clashed against sword, and men fell left, right, and center. Lena ushered Isla away from the battlefield and on across the heathers, as Fraser turned to fight. He was filled with hatred for his captors and charged forward towards them, the sword held high above his head.
“This is for Isla,”
he cried, as an Englishman fell from his horse.
Alistair Elliott was also amid the battle, clashing with English riders, as around him, the Scots waged deadly war. It was as though an anger had been unleashed, and they showed their enemies no mercy in the fight.
“Hail, Laird,” Fraser cried, and Alistair turned to look at him in surprise. “Isla is safe, dinnae worry.”
The Laird had no time to reply, as another English horseman came charging towards him. But as Fraser turned, he saw with horror that a group of English soldiers had broken away and were charging after his mother and Isla and at their head was Howard Musgrave.
“Treacherous fiend,” Fraser said, rushing across the battlefield.
Isla let out a scream as Howard grabbed her from atop his horse, but a moment later, Fraser was upon him, pulling him from his horse as he let out a cry.
A Highlander Forged In Fire (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 21
